


All the Small Towns in America

by Highsmith (quimtessence)



Series: A Bus to Somewhere [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, Come Swallowing, Consensual Underage Sex, Deepthroating, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, Face-Fucking, Future Fic, Hand Jobs, M/M, Making Out, No Spoilers, Oral Sex, Post-Season/Series 02, Rough Sex, Will Byers Is Seventeen Years Old, mild self-esteem issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 08:45:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19720228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quimtessence/pseuds/Highsmith
Summary: Hawkins dies a slow death after July Fourth. Will's been a witness to dusty streets and deserted parking lots for seventeen summers, and there's little chance the trend's about to break now.In the same 'verse/continuity asWhat I Did on My Summer Vacation, or even a vague sequel if you squint, but can definitely stand alone.(AU pre-S3. No spoilers whatsoever.)





	All the Small Towns in America

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trashcangimmick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashcangimmick/gifts).



> [tumblr](https://rhubarbdreams.tumblr.com)

Hawkins dies a slow death after July Fourth. Will's been a witness to dusty streets and deserted parking lots for seventeen summers, and there's little chance the trend's about to break now.

The worst it gets is in August, the public swimming pool filled to the brim, but the businesses around town empty and forlorn. Mike has them riding in his car around town, smoking and smoking up in back alleys and vacant lots, and on dirt roads just outside of town limits, the back of the "Welcome to Hawkins" sign unfriendly in its disinterest, staring them down when Will looks back at it from the cramped back seat.

They hit up a few gas stations for shitty beer and more smokes before heading back to the only home most of them have ever known. By late afternoon they disperse to reconvene the next day, and the next, and the one after that. While they still can. While there's still something left of childhood before they have to part ways for good. Will harbours few illusions about _that_.

It's a Wednesday, and Will's mom is working a double-shift for too few customers. It pays the bills. It's always paid the bills. Will's drawings make enough out of state to pay for band tees and new records and the good pizza once a week. A little left over for rainy days. You never know.

The doorbell rings a little after seven. Twilight won't be for another hour. Sun's still up in the sky on a blue, clear evening. Will lets it ring only the once before he's hurrying to open up. It could be only one person, after all.

Billy Hargrove casually smoking on his doorstep is never not going to be a sight. He's in a plain black tee, stylishly-distressed jeans, combat boots, the works. His pendant and necklace dazzle in the vestiges of afternoon summer sun. Will feels only slightly inadequate in cut-off jean shorts and a Ramones shirt that's seen better days.

"Hi," he says. Blushes at the crack in his own voice on that one syllable.

Either Billy doesn't notice, or he doesn't care. Probably both. He smirks knowingly. Because he knows, knows all about Will, and how he's already getting hard in his shorts.

They don't really talk. It's hardly necessary, and Will wouldn't know what to say anyway.

Why talk when Billy's already inside, slamming the door behind him none too gently, pushing at Will's shoulders until his back hits the opposite wall and Billy's lips press to his.

It doesn't start out rough, but it inevitably gets there by the end, Will gripping at any part of him he can reach with both hands. Billy brings his knee between Will's, effectively trapping him, and after that it must be easy to open Will's wet mouth with his tongue and lick inside. Have him moaning on so little it's near embarrassing. It must be the easiest thing in the world for Billy Hargrove to do these days.

Will doesn't let himself wonder why someone who's legal to buy booze and get into bars, and so much more besides, would ever do this with him. It's not a road he's interested in going down on for more than a few moments, for his own peace of mind, if nothing else.

It _never_ stops at making out.

Usually they'd be in Will's room by now, half their clothes thrown haphazardly across the floor between the front door and Will's bed, but Billy still has him pinned to the wall and seemingly unwilling to stop sucking on his tongue for long enough to move this to a part of the house someone dropping by unannounced wouldn't be likely to discover them. Will can't say he minds, not really.

His want must be sharply obvious in the air between them. He's a sweaty mess, from the day spent out and now this. He's literally panting for it.

He can't help it, and he's stopped caring by now. Stopped caring about seeming cool when he's never been close to it. After all, they've done this too many times to count. It never seems to matter at all that Will's Will.

Billy's fingers are digging into his hips, bound to leave finger-shaped bruises for days, holding and gripping as if Will's about to dissolve in his hands any minute now. Then his nose presses into Will's cheek for an instant, leaving his lips behind all bitten and tender-feeling, before he's gone, down on the floor, knees hitting it with a muffled sound on the dusty, greying carpet. His face nuzzles its way into the shadowed places between Will's thighs, where he's hot and hard and pulsing with need.

Panting harshly, Will manages to glance down at him. Before this summer, he would never have even _dared_ imagine Billy Hargrove on his knees in front of anyone, much less him. It's a subtle tease, him nosing at Will like this. The promise of it. His knees will hurt. His jaw, too. Will whines deep in his throat at the very thought of it.

Within the blink of an eye he's glancing up through his eyelashes, his pupils blown dark. The intensity there has Will's insides raw and bleeding out. Too much all at once, and Billy's barely touching him. How is anyone supposed to deal with this, and come out the other side intact?

Then his lips part widely, the soft insides of Billy's mouth pressing into the crisp denim of Will's shorts, breathing wetly through it.

His hips seem to have a mind of their own then, bucking into the feel of Billy's open mouth over the zipper and button of his summer shorts. He bites at the inside of one cheek to stifle an errant moan. His shirt is falling a little off one shoulder to reveal what he knows are patches of skin adorned with yellowing bruises, half-healed little marks Will hasn't bothered hiding.

He waits him out, never mind his dick is chafing in the cotton of his underwear inside his shorts. Never mind he's literally drooling at the mere thought of Billy Hargrove's mouth on his cock, swallowing him down, stretching at his throat.

Doubtlessly Billy's been presented before with something more impressive than what Will has to offer. It's not a comforting thought that he might be found lacking, despite the whisper at the back of his head saying Billy already knows, has already seen him, all of him, and has come back regardless.

Billy breaks eye contact then to reach for Will's shorts, and he soon has him wrapped in one dry, warm palm. The stroke upward is neither light not gentle. Will's visibly wet, the head an embarrassing cherry-red, but not enough to lessen the mild sting of no slick.

It doesn't last long. Billy swallows him down after a few meager pulls of his palm, and Will can only shudder and tremble at the feel of it.

Pulling back to the tip to take in air only lasts for a few moments. Once more he takes Will in, farther and farther, his cock curving down into his throat, Billy's nose snuggled close at the root of him by the end. Billy's free hands grip at his hip bones to rock him forward, fucking his own face with Will's cock then, barely coming off an inch on the pull-back.

Will doesn't know what to do with his hands except sink them into blond curls, his grip messy and awkward. It's too much all at once, his limbs operating on autopilot.

The push down gets sloppier, Billy taking Will's cock all the way in each and every time. Fingers grasping wildly, Will knows he's about to come, his sensitive cockhead rubbing against Billy's soft palate on each pull-back an irresistible tease. Barely manages a feeble warning Billy ignores in favour of fucking his face all the way down to Will's pubic hair and swallowing down his come, gulping it all down, as Will shudders against his own living room wall.

His entire body is a pulsing nerve when Billy pushes off him. He reaches for Billy's jeans dazedly. Pulls him off methodically, if only vaguely in control of his limbs. His dick is leaking in Will's hand. No need for slick, only a willing palm to fuck against.

When he comes it's with Will's tongue in his mouth, his fingers gripping Will's hair hard enough for his scalp to sting. He leaves Will's palm a mess. Just like he's leaving every part of him each time they meet.

It should be enough now, both panting and spent, but it's light out still. It's summer. Billy won't be missed for dinner just yet. It's easy then for Will to drag himself from the wall and lead them to his room.

It's summer in Hawkins, and the streets are empty.


End file.
